Killer in the Shadows!

by Amit Nangia

  Ria opened the door and moved back slightly for them to squeeze past. It was a tight squeeze and she didn’t seem to want to make it any easier. Abhay winked at her kind gesture. He could have had a quickie with Ria behind the same door if he had the time to play his cards right.

  Abhay followed Naina out. He couldn’t help but notice the way Naina’s curvaceous backside swayed in her tight black trousers as she disappeared out of the door. The woman definitely had a figure and gorgeous long legs. She pretended like she had all the confidence in the world. But he knew her bravado was a sham. When he’d witnessed her fear only moments earlier, he’d had to order himself not to wrap her in his arms and comfort her. Just the thought made him excited. But a personal entanglement with this woman would be a mistake. Business, buddy, strictly business, he reminded himself as he followed her. Maybe if he told himself that often enough, he would believe it. Damn!

  Did he know who’d broken into her house? Had he come here to ask her to go to the police station to identify her attacker? A part of her desperately wanted that to happen, while another part of her wasn’t quite ready to face the truth. She couldn’t remember who’d killed her parents because she couldn’t face the truth. That was what the psychiatrist had told her grandmother. Was the truth that horrible for her to accept even now that she was all grown up?

  Her stomach turned as the waiter placed cups of tea in front of them. Naina fiddled with the brooch that was pinned on her jacket merely to have something to do with her hands. Taking a deep breath, she looked the inspector square in the eye.

  Abhay lit a cigarette. “Ms. Sinha, I think I will call you Naina. Ms Sinha is too formal for me.”

  Naina nodded.

  Abhay stretched out his long legs, brushing his knee against hers. Naina felt a thrill run up her entire body with his touch. She’d been too frightened the night before to notice this man’s powerful masculinity. His broad shoulders and muscular body filled out his uniform shirt to perfection. He had a hard, chiselled face with high cheekbones and a red scarf hugging his neck, and dark black hair that looked so thick that she wanted to run her fingers through it.

  “You look better now,” he said with a slight smile. He wanted to say, “Mast lag rahi ho” but he figured that comment would be better understood by Rani, not Naina.

  “Thanks. I feel a little better.” Naina shifted uneasily in her seat. The way his deep, husky voice murmured her name…it was too personal. And his dark eyes gazed at her in such a way that she wanted to confide in him, to tell him the whole, sordid truth. But if she did, would he still help her?

  “Okay, Inspector Abhay Pandey, what did you want to discuss?” Always get to the point, Naina had learned. Take charge of the meeting. Don’t let the other person intimidate you.

  The inspector was watching puffs of cigarette smoke drift like clouds across the ceiling. His mouth curved into a smile as if he knew exactly what she was doing. She shifted again, this time accidently brushing her leg against his. The soft fabric of his khakis felt warm against her thigh. He smiled again. He wanted to feel her body without the khaki coming in between. Junior felt uncomfortable at the thought.

  “Inspector?” She raised her cup for another sip of her tea.

  His gaze followed the movement, then suddenly, as if he realized what he was doing, he straightened up in his chair and assumed a more business-like pose. His smile faded, and a serious expression darkened his eyes. “Like I said, the police finished combing your place.”

  “And?” Naina’s pulse jumped.

  “They didn’t find anything to indicate an intruder.”

  Naina’s hands tightened around the cup. “What about the blood on the knife?”

  The inspector hurled out his cigarette, then leaned forward and sipped his tea, and set his cup down with a thud. There was no way of tarting up the facts in fancy clothes. “The tests aren’t finished yet but there weren’t any other fingerprints except yours, of course.” He paused, waiting for her reaction. “If someone was there, they wiped their prints and blood off the knife after you passed out.”

  Naina leaned back and closed her eyes momentarily. Could she have imagined the whole thing? As a child, she had such vivid nightmares that she swore were real. Could it be happening all over again?

  “You want to tell me about the tape recorder? Why did it set you off like that?”

  Naina decided that she might as well tell him as much of the truth as possible. “My mother used to sing me that song before she died.”

  Abhay rubbed his thumb over his scarf. “I can understand how that would upset you. But you don’t know who sent it?”

  Naina shook her head. “How would I know! You are the police, you should know.”

  “Maybe someone in the family?”

  “I don’t have any family. I’m sure you’ve discovered that by now,” she said, her hands tightening around the cup.

  Abhay’s brief nod told her all she needed to know. Of course he’d read her history. Was he here just to satisfy his curiosity or did he really want to help her?

  “No one knew about it except my grandmother.” Naina sighed. “And my grandmother is dead now.”

  “Did she leave you anything valuable? Money, property, jewellery?”

  “Why do you ask?” Naina wrinkled her forehead in thought.

  “I’m looking for a motive. If she did, then perhaps there’s another family member out there who wants the inheritance too. It might explain the attack. Has anything like this happened before?”

  “No.” Naina mulled over the possibilities. “Besides, my grandmother didn’t have much financially. Just a small house and a few personal things. We weren’t wealthy by any means.”

  Abhay ran a hand through his thick hair. He actually wanted to move his hands through her hair. “Do you know anyone who would want to hurt you? Any enemies? Co-workers or clients you’ve made angry in the past?”

  I know where you live. Devender Singh’s threat echoed in her ears. Still, she hated to accuse him of trying to hurt her when she had no proof.

  “Naina, if you want me to help you, you have to trust me,” he said covering her hand with his.

  “All right,” she began, “In my business, I’ve made a few clients angry, inspector.”

  “If we’re going to be working together, I’d rather you call me by my first name,” said Abhay, beginning his flirting speech.

  Naina couldn’t resist a smile.

  “I’d like you to send me a list of all your clients, and highlight any client or their partner who haven’t been pleased with their settlement,” Abhay said. Aur main unki maar lunga, he thought.

  “And what about boyfriends? Any lovers or exs we should worry about?” Abhay wanted this information more for personal reasons than official ones.

  Naina tensed. How in the world was she supposed to answer that? “No,” she said softly.

  There wasn’t a man in her life! A ridiculous sense of relief filled Abhay. He felt like standing up on the table and start dancing like Shammi Kapoor. ‘Yahoooo, chahey koi mujhe jangli kahey.’

  Naina thought she saw the inspector smile and she couldn’t help it herself.

  Abhay was losing himself again. “Do you know that you look beautiful when you smile…”

  Her lack of a boyfriend eliminated the possibility of an ex-lover trying to hurt her, but he had a disturbing feeling that wasn’t the reason he was relieved. She made him feel really alive. Actually she made junior feel really alive. He realized. Damn. He couldn’t do this. He could get sucked in by her. She was just a case. A strange, bizarre, and fascinating case.

  As they stepped out of the café, his gut told him that something was wrong. He had to listen to his instincts. Why was something nagging away? Why was that little bell at the back of his head ringing insistently, warning him something was wrong?

  Two goons came out of nowhere and blocked the way. Abhay saw two men standing thirty steps away in the dark, silhouetted against the glow com
ing from the street light. The guy on the right was in his mid-thirties, judging by his posture, medium height, thick upper body, a bizarre shape to his head, because of uncooperative hair. He had the kind of hair that should have been cut much shorter or atleast shampooed everyday. The inspector’s face went tight, but after a couple of seconds he relaxed and forced a smile. He could understand that these goons had come to hurt Naina, but obviously he wouldn’t let them do so.

  The guy on the left was tall, but nonetheless a fat, grunting figure. “Abey Inspector! Ladki humarey hawaley kar dey.”

  A malicious smile slithered across Abhay’s face as he walked up to them. “Tum kya ladki key mama ho, jo ladki tumhein dedoon?” He took off his scarf and tied it on his wrist.

  He looked at Naina who looked bewildered and scared. He threw the car keys at her and she caught them. “Here! Switch on the music in the Jeep and enjoy,” Abhay said.

  Naina rushed to the Jeep and put the keys in and turned. The music started playing automatically, at shadi-volume. She wondered what this craziness was about, but stayed glued to the seat.

  “Feel the heat, feel the kick, feel the power, feel the punch! Aao ji, bauji, dil se dil milao ji, aa gaya hai dekho bodyguard.”

  Abhay smiled and half-turned, and like he knew they would, the two guys moved towards him, ready to grab him. Abhay leaped up in the air and planted a long left hook at the left hand guy. Dhishum.

  It caught him hard on the ear, and the guy’s head snapped sideways and bounced off his partner’s shoulder, by which time Abhay was already throwing a right-hand uppercut under the partner’s chin. Dhishum. The guy’s head went up and back the same way his buddy’s had bounced around, and almost in the same second. Like they were puppets, and the puppeteer had sneezed.

  Both of them stayed on their feet. One of the men was wobbling around like a man on an unsteady boat, and the right-hand guy was stumbling backward. The left-hand guy was all unstable and up on his heels and his belly seemed inviting.

  Abhay popped two solid punches into his belly, hard enough to drive the breath out of him, soft enough not to kill him. The guy folded up, crouched and hugged his knees.

  And the car stereo continued booming.

  “Sab se hot, sab se hard Jo bura hai uski waat

  Aa gaya hai dekho bodyguard.”

  Abhay stepped past him and went after the right-hand guy, who saw him coming and swung his right hand to hit him. Abhay dodged him and lifted the man from his neck, banging him on the floor. Wham!

  Abhay heard Naina’s scream and he saw a masked man standing next to her. He ran towards Naina. The masked man ran away on his bike. Abhay realized it was a getaway plan, but it was too late. He spun around towards the other goons and saw them disappearing into a black mercedes which had appeared out of nowhere.

  “The chaiwala hasn’t come today, so we won’t get any chai, Shukla. You’ll have to make it manually, which I trust is not beneath the dignity of a constable. Make tea enough for four.” Mishra grinned and lowered his head, returning to his typewriter. He was the Head Constable and knew where to use his powers.

  Shukla was at his desk, trying to dig himself into the files in order to look busy, but failed miserably. On hearing Mishra’s comment, he looked pathetically at him.

  Mishra raised his head. “You needn’t get your beard wet with tears over such a small thing, my little hairy son. Is there a problem, constable? Something in your orders that you don’t understand?”

  Shukla’s face was rigid with fury. “You want me to make the tea?” He said it as if he had been asked to strip.

  Mishra returned Shukla’s glare with a scorcher of his own. “Yes, constable. Any objections?”

  “Yes,” snapped Shukla, jerking a thumb at a young constable, who was hovering by the lobby door, with his danda, anxiously peering out into the road. “What about him? Why can’t he do it?”

  “Because he is doing a very important job of keeping the police station safe, with his danda. And anyway, why should he be the tea boy instead of you? You’re both the same rank … you’re both constables or have you forgotten?”

  As if the bugger would let him forget! He spun on his heels and barged out of there, slamming the door behind him.

  Mishra heard darogaji’s Jeep approaching, and adjusted his uniform, and made his back straight. The phone on his desk gave a little cough. Mishra glowered at it, daring it to ring. It defied him. So did the other phone. Damn and blast! He’d planned a quick exchange of dialogue with Inspector Abhay in which the inspector would look around the empty station and say, “All on your own, Mishraji?” and he would reply smartly, with much diffidence, “Yes, sir, but I can cope. I can run this place single-handed if need be.” And the Inspector would smile approvingly and make a mental note that there was some very promising promotion material here. Instead, Inspector Abhay breezed through, nodded curtly at Mishra and said, “Those phones need answering, Mishraji.”

  Mishra picked up the phone. The man on the phone sounded out of breath and was barely whispering into the phone. “Sirji, meri bhains ki chori ke baarey mein kuch pata chala? Could you find my buffalo or the thief?”

  Abhay smacked the files on the table. “Can I get some chai?”

  “Shouldn’t be long, sirji,” said Mishra, adding with a note of smug triumph, “Shukla’s making it.”

  Abhay stepped back in amazement. “How did you get him to do that?”

  “Simple. I gave him an order. Why shouldn’t he make it? He’s only a bloody constable.”

  “He may be a bloody constable,” said Abhay, “but half the time he thinks he is an inspector.”

  Mishra smiled and called out loud, “Shuklaji! How much longer are you going to be making that bloody tea?”

  Abhay lowered his eyes guiltily as Shukla handed him the mug of tea; he kind of had a soft corner for Shukla. “Itni badhiya chai banai hai, Shuklaji. Looks good.”

  Mishra, looking up from his typewriter, said, “Thanks very much, Inspector… sorry, I mean constable,” which provoked a muffled snort of suppressed laughter from everyone.

  Shukla’s face went tight. Laugh, you bastards. My time will come. Dekh loonga ek ek ko. Shukla made a note.

  Even though Shukla got on his nerves sometimes, Abhay knew his worth. Shukla was old in the system and had the knack of getting information on people quicker than anyone else in the force. He also understood Shukla’s scepticism about Naina, and Shukla had a right to his doubts. Shoot, even he had doubts.

  “Okay, Shuklaji, what have you found out?” Abhay said sipping his hot tea.

  Shukla pointed to a file on his desk and started in his familiar drawl. “The post mortem report of the body in the public toilet has come in. As per the report, the death was because of an accident with a car. I checked but no one has reported seeing an accident in the last one week.”

  “Hmm. And what about Naina?” Abhay asked.

  Shukla started again in his monotonous tone like an erstwhile newsreader. “Got some background on Naina, sirji. She left a big corporate office with a booming practice to start her own firm here in this small town. Doesn’t make sense why she would do such a thing. Okay, divorce cases are rising here too, but they are definitely not as high as Mumbai.”

  “Any problems with co-workers there?”

  “No, sirji. Her boss said that she was a brilliant lawyer, but also mentioned that she kept to herself. Thought she was a little weird, but didn’t say anything specific.”

  Abhay found a half-smoked cigarette hiding in his pocket and lit it gratefully. “Did he know why she decided to leave the practice?”

  “No. Her boss seemed shocked, said her announcement came out of the blue. He even offered her a raise, but she refused. Sirji I am telling you, woh ekdum pagal hai. Believe me.”

  Abhay drummed his fingers on the file. Why had she left such a good position to move back here? To the town where her parents were killed, to a house that must hold haunting memories for her? Was she runni
ng from someone or something back in Mumbai?

  “Oh, and her colleagues said that her move had something to do with her boyfriend, too. Apparently they had a big fight before she left. His name is Ashish Luthra.”

  Abhay swallowed a cloud of smoke as he squashed out his cigarette in a saucer. Bahot achhey! Humsey hoshiyari. How could he have been so stupid to believe her! He was furious with himself for being so gullible. If she’d lied about having a boyfriend, what else was she lying about? Bahot tez cheez hai yeh ladki. If she can play this game, then even I can.

  Naina was mesmerized by the lavishness of Uncle Chauhan’s mansion. She had never seen anything like it. She had read a feature about this home in some magazine, but it didn’t do the real thing any justice. With its imported marble and fixtures, elaborate decorative mouldings, and its extensive gardens dotted with statues and fountains, the house was like a five star hotel. She made her way up the driveway and rang the doorbell. A servant answered it and led her to a lounge where she waited for Uncle Chauhan.

  The split-level lounge, which ran almost the full length of the ground floor, was roomy enough to park an aircraft. It smelled strongly of expensive leather, rich cigar smoke, and money… lots of money.

  Naina waved to Uncle Chauhan and he crossed the carpeted floor of his elegant lounge and approached her; a brilliant smile spread across his face. Dressed in all whites – kurta, pyjama, and juttis – he truly looked distinguished and evermore the politician.

  “It’s good to see you, my dear,” he said, giving her a kiss on her forehead. “Come, let me introduce you to everyone.” He extended his arm to escort her into the enormous main dining room where a crowd of similarly dressed guests were chatting or nibbling away at the array of snacks situated artfully on white linen-covered tables or being served on silver trays by waiters dressed in black. A massive crystal chandelier sparkled above the room giving the place the feel of glitz.

  An uneasy feeling flitted over Naina as she joined the party. Tension crackled through the air. Hushed murmurs and curious stares met her appearance.